The "deep snow" of the winter of 1830-31, to which reference has already been had, was not only one of the most remarkable meteorological phenomena ever experienced in Central Illinois, but it marked a dating point, for every antecedent or subsequent event, in the history of the early settlers. "Before" or "after the deep snow" was a chronological expression, similar to the much later one of, "before" or "after the war." The snow began to fall in the latter part of November and continued to fall, until it reached a depth of three feet or more on the level. Then came a rain, with the weather so cold, that the rain froze as it fell, forming a crust of ice, over this great depth of snow, nearly, but not quite, strong enough, to bear up the weight of a man; and finally, over this crust of ice, came a few inches of light snow. The clouds passed away and the wind came down, from the northwest, with extraordinary ferocity. For weeks, the mercury was no higher, any morning, than twelve degrees below zero. The air was filled with flying snow, which blinded the eyes, and almost stopped the breath of any one who attempted to face it. The settlers were all largely from regions to the south of this, had never experienced anything of this kind and were wholly unprepared for it. It is not difficult, therefore, to give due credence to the stories of suffering and destitution which its prolonged visitation entailed.

When the storm came, it found most of the corn, standing on the stalks. The fall had been warm and wet, and the settlers had been in no hurry to gather the corn. They were so unprepared for such an extreme season, that it became almost impossible, in many cases, to obtain bread for family use, although amid stacks of wheat and fields of corn. Few had any milling done, and all sorts of devices were used to reduce what little grain that could be dug out of the snow into anything resembling bread. Watermills, few as they were, were frozen and stopped. Roads were obliterated and it was useless to make new ones in the snow, for the drifts filled them up as fast as made. Stock perished for want of sustenance, as also did hogs and poultry, in great numbers.

Nearly all kinds of game were destroyed, especially the deer, which being unable to run in the snow, fell an easy prey to the hunter and his dogs. Prairie chickens, with their well known habits of roosting on the ground, were destroyed by hundreds. Apple and peach trees were invariably killed. Prior to the "deep snow," this section was considered the greatest fruit country known, but since the "deep snow," it has never recovered its prestige in this regard. It is also a well known fact, that cotton was grown in what is now Logan County, prior to this remarkable weather, but none since. David England, who settled in Sangamon County, close to the present Logan County line, said in 1870: "Previous to 1831, we raised plenty of cotton, without cultivation, all we wanted, but after the deep snow, there was a change in climate, and it has not been the same since, as every old settler can testify. My father had a cotton gin, which consisted of two rollers turned by hand." Cotton was raised in considerable quantities in the Buckles' settlement in the Lake Fork country, before the "deep snow" as before noted in the chapter on early settlement. Elisha Primm, of Sangamon County, used to relate that his father built a cotton gin in 1822. He said that from the time the first settlers came into the county, until 1831, this was as good a cotton country as Georgia. He said that this was attested by men familiar with cotton growing in the south. Elisha attended the gin built by his father, which was run by horse power. The people brought cotton to be ginned, from all distances up, to twenty miles. Sometimes it would accumulate on his hands, until he would have as much as three thousand pounds. The price for ginning was a toll of one pound in every eight, after the cotton was ginned. It sold from 12 to 16 2/3 cents per pound and occasionally higher. But after the "deep snow," he said that the seasons appeared to shorten, and cotton was generally bitten by the frost before it had time to mature, and cotton raising was abandoned.

John Buckles, during his lifetime, said that though only nine years of age, he remembered the "deep snow" quite vividly. He described it as follows: "The snow began falling about Christmas and continued until it was three feet deep on the level, and four or six feet deep where it drifted. A cold wave, following the snow, froze the surface into a thick hard crust, strong enough to bear the weight of team and sled. Deer and wild turkeys became so tame, through desire for food, that they ventured near enough to the cabin of the pioneers, in some instances, to be fed from the door. Before the opening of spring, much wild game was killed, by the merciless wolf or perished from starvation. Families not having prepared for such a trying time, and being housed only in open-built huts, were in many cases frozen to death, while others suffered cruelly from lack of food. The difficulties and adversities through which the people of that winter passed, and the misery and suffering they underwent, are indescribable and inconceivable, and those who survived it and are yet living, recall to memory or speak of it, with ghastly recollection of its horrors." Christopher C. Ewing, in writing to the Old Settlers' Association, about the "deep snow," said: "During this winter, we had to hitch two or three yoke of oxen, to a sled, to drive out into the field, and get some corn for ourselves and the stock; and we would find our trails, completely covered up, on our return. The snow was two or three feet deep, on a level. Sun-dogs followed the sun all day, and the weather was bitterly cold. We got through the winter with a lot of poor stock."

James Randolph, at the Old Settlers' meeting in 1875, said that he came to the county, with a colony of fifty persons; that they came from a warm country and the men spent the fall in hunting, instead of finishing their cabins and that only two cabins had chimneys when the big snow came; that by spring forty-nine of the fifty were in the two cabins that had chimneys, one having died; that nearly all were sick, they had no doctor, and a number of the settlers became discouraged with the outlook and went back home. Samuel Hoblit used to relate that he moved into his new log house, near the present site of Atlanta, "the day of the commencement of the deep snow," that the house was somewhat open, not having had it finished and "that the snow of that long winter, lasting eighty days, without a thaw, continually drifted in, until, under the bed, it reached the cords, where it became packed and was allowed to remain until spring." David Ward Clark, one of the first presidents of the Old Settlers' Association, is authority for the statement that, during the winter of the deep snow, the house tops were covered with prairie chickens, which died by the thousands. Jacob H. Judy, in his lifetime, always claimed that the snow was five feet deep, on an average, and drifted, in places, to fifteen and twenty feet. Ford Ewing used to relate that during this period, he, and his brother, ran down eleven half starved, scrawny deer, which they afterwards fattened, but could not domesticate. This great snowfall produced constant sleighing for nine weeks, and when, at last, warm rains and sunshine prevailed, the roads remained as lines of ice, which disappeared but gradually. The streams were raised, by the melting snow, to an unusual height, and thus passed away this epoch-marking event.